


Somewhere-Stucky Oneshot

by Bottom_PeteParker



Category: Avengers, Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stucky - Fandom, Winter Soldier - Fandom
Genre: Aka i dont like stony, Andrews Sisters, Avengers - Freeform, Bucky stfu, But all the shit didnt happen, Civil War, Flashbacks, HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE TIME RELEVANT, Homophobic Language, Hurt Steve Rogers, I just wrote that fic bc civil war was out, I wrote stony, M/M, One Shot, STUCKY ALL THE WAY, Sad, Steve Tries, Stucky fan, Stucky fan redemption, There was no fight, They just found him, bucky is fucked up, fluff?, sad fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9483917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bottom_PeteParker/pseuds/Bottom_PeteParker
Summary: Warning this is hella sad and there is period typical homophobic language.Steve tries hard to help Bucky adjust and they deal with the aftermath of his torture.***UNEDITED AT THIS TIME***





	

Bucky was allowed to go home, all these years and he could finally go home. Not to Brooklyn with skinny little Steve Rogers, not with his arm, not with most things he'd like to go back to or with. He went to the Avengers tower with Steve Rogers, America's hero. The world's hero. Bucky was the world's monster, a horrible creature who symbolized death and destruction in the shell of a man who fought with his life in a war that saved lives. Somewhere in his mind he thought he remembered something from a long time ago when his hair was close cropped and a scrawny blonde looked at him like he owned the world. He thought he remembered wishing Steve Rogers would outshine him, because he was the best damn thing on Earth, but now his old friends brilliance made him shield his eyes from the light. 

The torture made him bitter to the world, even if he tried to make things right. He didn't want to snap back at anything someone said to him, he didn't want to flinch when Steve reached for him. Somewhere in his mind a man who reflected old images of himself fought tooth and nail to anyone who so much as threatened to bring tears to baby blue eyes. He didn't miss the way desperation coated his features any time he wanted to talk to Bucky, to touch him and try and get him to remember. He was aware of everyone's faces and everyone's whispers, but he thought about Steve's a lot. One time he had walked to the balcony and stood gazing at the world below them for a whole two hours before he went inside to go to bed. Bucky had pushed a bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and apples on top onto the floor after Steve came out to give it to him, asking if he remembered Steve making it for him every morning before work. There was too much cinnamon in the first bite, somewhere in his mind he thought about a smile beaming as his voice praised a similar meal, he'd down pounds of cinnamon for that smile.

They kept trying to call him James, James Buchanan Barnes. He didn't miss the little twitch of Steve's jaw when he insisted he'd only answer to Bucky. Hydra called him James, the army called him Barnes. However Steve had gotten Bucky from Buchanan stuck with him always. had spent a long portion of his hiding thinking about the name. Somewhere in his mind he remembered rushing into a room the instant a weak voice called out that name. They, the Avengers, called each other names. In sport or in spite, they used nicknames. He kept a list in his head, trying to force out bad memories with new light hearted ones. His favorite was when Steve gave advice and often Sam Wilson or Tony Stark would be the one to say “Alright then Star Spangled Man, what's your plan?” and a warm pink accompanied by a wide grin would decorate his face. Somewhere in his mind the words felt familiar, but more so he remembered jealously looking across a room of teenagers dancing to keep his eyes on a little guy who talked too much trying to impress a girl who clearly couldn't care less. 

He kept his hair long, almost in protest of the past. Guys could have long hair now, he had no pressure to chop it all off. It was a fuck you to the army, in a way, the clean cut wasn't necessary anymore. His captors did not bathe or groom him, so cleanly throwing it up with a hair tie was a fuck you to them too. He hated the tangles when he brushed it, but deep inside he was angry at himself for refusing to smile when Steve told him he likes how this hairstyle looks on him. Somewhere in his mind he remembers tears and skinny arms wrapped around him, ‘No one's ever gonna want me, why can't I be as handsome as you?!’ from the prettiest thing in the world. On one occasion there was a big knot in his hair and he accepted Steves offer for help. After cautiously creeping around him he began to brush the brown hair, Bucky's eyes fluttering closed at the soothing motions. It wasn't until he tugged at the knot that Bucky threw him against the wall and his screaming drowned out the chant of apologies. Somewhere in his mind he remembered those sad words coming from bloody lips in a dirty bathroom.

Steve tried extra hard to be friends with him when they were in public, Bucky was forced out of his solitude by the need for human interaction, angrily sitting on a couch while everyone talked and laugh was as good as he could get. Somewhere in his mind he remembered when he was the life of the party, when he had a young man shuffling behind him at all times. He watched as Steve laughed and joked, especially about the time. All around him Bucky listened to jokes about when they were young. About the price changes, the state of the government, and especially technology. They'd try and get Bucky in on the fun but often he'd give up on the day and go to bed.

Despite how shitty he was to his childhood friend each night he stumbled to the door that connected their rooms, Steve insisted Bucky take the one adjacent to his. Tears on his face and hair everywhere hed stand on the side of the bed and quake. He quickly learned that Steve's sleep was plagued by night terror and sadness. Steve always moved over to allow Bucky a place besides him, even the day his nose was broken. The symbol of all the good robbed from him and all the good he's robbed from other hung on his arm, he refused to touch flesh with cold metal. He slept so that abomination hung off the bed, it didn't have any place in the air of mercy that hung around him. Somewhere in his mind he remembered nights with a shivering, bony body pressed against him each night. It couldn't warm itself in those days and Bucky reached out to run flesh against flesh deep in the night when he thought about it. His hand would brush against a warm face, scratching along some stubble. 

Steve kept trying, trying to bring back their friendship. Trying to make up for lost time. He didn't have to search that somewhere to remember what a stubborn punk he was. ‘I could do this all day.’ might as well have been tattooed to his forehead. The oatmeal, their old apartment a museum now. Under supervision they even went back to the museum. He recognized names and faces and uniforms. After pulling Steve out of the river he had come here briefly. His head hurt to think about all those years ago. He learned that SHIELD agents fallen in the line of duty got their names on the memorial, but it was founded after Steve went into the ice. His name was on there though, top of the list. He was told that he was an honorary member because she knew Steve would want his hero up there. Peggy Carter was always something, he liked her the moment she turned him down for his offer of a dance. That was just about the most romantic thing of the day and the easiest way for a player to play. He knew that. He remembered a lot of the slang and all of the past times, Steve spoke with a lot of the forgotten phrases. Especially when talking to Bucky. In his heart it made him happy to remember, happy to have someone and something who was just as lost as him.

He was sitting on the couch, just listening as always. They put on a video of some girls singing, and it surprises when Steve jumps out from behind them. He does a little speech about buying war bonds to support the troops. Its targeted to the wives and mothers of the soldiers, the phrase ‘same as a bullet in the barrel of your best guy's gun’ wasn't something men say. They talk about their best gals, their girlfriends or wives. Guys don't say that to guys. Of course, the broad shoulders and dazzling smile was for added sex appeal. His head went to somewhere he couldn't explain when Steve's smile said the best guy bit. He had a few thoughts about this place, chalking it up to him being lonely in an alien time. Loose, almost pajama like version of what his costume was today left kids hollering in the back. This was when he first became a superhero, for real. Bucky remembers being shown the comic books of him fighting nazis and saving women. Even as a hunk Steve couldn't talk to girls. Peggy Carter's niece, Sherry or whatever, had kissed him while him and Sam bickered over the seating positions. He had stopped arguing to watch, sadness and anger building up in his chest. Sam had noticed that and made some attempt to address it. If Steve wasn't risking everything to save him then he would have left the car. 

They watched his television show too, the acting worse than anything new. Steve laughed and agreed until Bucky said ‘maybe you should have tried harder instead of making heart eyes at those line dancers.’ and that laugh turned nervous until it died out. Steves posture slumped a little. Everyone else threw some looks of sympathy at him but they kept watching the show. Apparently this was a ‘playlist’ they worked on together to surprise him. There was a few videos of people singing before a newspaper page showed up on the screen. It was Steve and three women smiling. “Buck do you remember them?” He sat up again, hopeful. “Nope. Should I?” 

Steve laughed now, for real. “The Andrews Sisters! Maxene, Patty, and Laverne Andrews! Maxene asked me if I liked to dance one time and I sprained my ankle in front of your whole camp and when she left you told me not to worry because Maxene was flirting with you right before.” He thought about that, watching the hope drain out of those blue eyes the longer he was silent. “Remember, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy was your absolute favorite! I loved when-” He had one of his freak outs then and there. 

“Stop telling me what I like! You don't know me Rogers!” he had learned that he never called Steve by his last name. A few jokes but usually Steve, Stevie, or punk. Steves eyes widened and he slowly stood up and extended a hand. “I didn't mean to upset you Buck, you're my best guy and I'd never-” he smacked the hand away with his metal one. Somewhere in his mind he screamed and clawed at his skull, begging himself to put that horrible metal limb away. To not taint the pale skin. He stood up. “I'm not some fucking queer! I ain't your best guy Rogers! Maybe that's why you don't fucking leave me alone!” The shock and sadness deepened on his face. His heart begged him to stop and apologize now, not to rub salt in the wound.

“Maybe that's why you pull all this crap! Trying to cook for me and brush my hair and telling me what songs to like! You like boys Cap? You trail around me because you wish you were those girls on my arm? It's okay now, right? For fairy to come out and kiss as many men as he wants? You're trying to control me! You want me to be this wet dream of yours! Maybe that's why you agreed to bulk up! You wanted Starks daddy to get you big and strong so all the little homos would flock to you! Since you clearly can't get a girl!” 

There were tears in Steve's eyes as he stood there with his hand now limp at his side. “You don't know me! You don't know who I am other than the guy you wanted to screw! You're a real hero Stevie, you're a hero to your precious Catholic Church! I don't like your cooking, I don't like your music, I don't like your little jokes! I don't like how you can let me be alone! I want to be by myself, I don't want you to rescue me! I'm not one of your cover ups in a TV show! You keep trying to save me or something! You will never save me. You're just a scrawny kid who was artificially pumped up to play pretend for money for the war! You're pathetic, prancing around in tights to try and feel good about yourself. You're still a stubborn brat who can't figure out when people don't like you! You know what I remember? You lying in bed all day when I went to work! I could barely feed myself with that money, let alone two people! I paid for our bills and your doctors and I played nurse for you my whole life!” Somewhere in his mind strong memories of pride came back to him. Pride in seeing Steve stand up after a week of being sick and bedridden. Pride in seeing Steve draw after his hands stopped shaking from the flu. Pride in teaching him how to dance even with his two left feet and crooked spine. 

He didn't stop, even as he wanted to. He couldn't. He pushed Steve with the metal hand, sending him stumbling back. “You took my whole life Rogers! Everything I did I had to check with you first! Check your temperature and listen to see how hard you were wheezing. But you couldn't just take that from me, could you? No you had to drag me out with you on that stupid mission, and you couldn't catch me Steve! I was still alive for at least an hour after I hit the ground! All if my bones shattered! I was suffering as you rode your little train to history as the hero you are! Good Ol’ Steven Grant! You're the reason I fell, you're the reason they found me! They tortured me for years! They gave me this arm,” he pushed him again “and they took everything i had! Everything you allowed me! It's not okay Steve. You've ruined my life and no matter how much you want your little homo fantasy you won't ruin that too!” This time when he pushed him steve fell onto the floor. His vision was blurry in rage but it started to clear. There weren't tears in his eyes, there were tears on his cheeks. He was on the floor, the perfect picture of a broken man. He scrambled back, trembling. After he finally succeeded to getting on his feet he ran off towards his room, slamming the door made the television shake. 

There was screaming, the kind of scream a mother makes when her child dies. The kind of scream a wounded animal makes. Somewhere in his mind he knew it was the kind of scream an outreach hand yelled as he got further and further away. There was destruction too. Things being thrown into walls, walls being punched. Sobbing. Lots of sobbing. 

When he looked around him the whole room was staring. Banner took some deep breaths and slowly walked around the couch towards Steve. Bucky knew his story, he didn't horrible things when he was angry, it was his whole gig. Their eyes met and he gave a look of pity before turning around and knocking on Steve's door. When he looked at the rest of them there was horror on their faces. These people have killed and lost and witnessed endless suffering, but they looked at him like a disaster they've never seen before. Sam Wilson was the next to get up, leaving to comfort Steve. “I know you've got this whole identity crisis right now but that was just fucked up and you should be ashamed of yourself.If I didn't think Steve needed me right now you'd be in one hell of a fight.” he spat the words at him like they were poison. 

Natashas face was usually unresponsive, spy training was her gig. She was perfectly emotional and perfectly lacking emotion in all the right times. Usually during Bucky's lash outs she'd keep a straight face. Her jaw hung open and she had a few tears as well. She ran past Sam to see Steve. Thor sort of just left, he didn't like hanging around too much anyway. “Give my regards to the Captain.” He pats Tony's shoulder and walks away. Tony Stark. His father's name was thrown into the mix of insults and accusations. Bucky remembers Howard Stark very well, he was a good guy. “I'm an asshole Barnes but this...this was wrong. If I was him I'd let them take you back and lock you up like you deserve.” He stormed away, not to Steve's room. Steve didn't need Tony right now. T’Challa shook his head on the couch. “You've made a mistake and if the Captain even considers forgiving you you should thank any power you love.” He too left, a king wouldn't stay around for this. The advice was all he offered. Buckys heart ached as he hoped Steve would stay around. Somewhere in his mind a man who looked just like him told him he didn't deserve shit from the angel he had just crushed.

Wanda ran in the room, stopping to stare at Bucky. With her phone in her hand she ran past him towards the room where everyone had gathered. They must have told her. He goes to a different lounge, away from ground zero. On one of the computers he types in the song. After failed attempts to find out he just types in ‘Boogie Woogie Andrews Sisters’ and clicks the first link.  
-  
‘ He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way.  
He had a boogie style that no one else could play.  
He was the top man at his craft,  
but then his number came up and he was gone with the draft.  
He's in the army now. He's blowin' reveille.  
He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.’  
~  
Bucky remembers looking up from his tray at the loud, howling laughter. The first time he heard it was when Steve Rogers made a fool of himself. This time it was Steve Rogers but with strong arms and a taller stance, who had just come back from making a fool of himself.  
~  
‘They made him blow a bugle for his Uncle Sam.  
It really brought him down because he could not jam.’  
~  
Steve complained about wanting to join the war since it started, his health wouldn't allow it. Now he was in better shape than all the men around him but they put him on a stage. His act brought lots of money to them, giving them almost everything they needed.  
~  
‘The captain seemed to understand,  
because the next day the cap went out and drafted the band.  
And now the company jumps when he plays reveille.  
He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.’  
~  
When they started printing Captain America comics, their whole unit read them. It was a newer concept and it was about a shrimp they knew. Some of them asked Steve to sign them for their sons and daughters, shame peeking through their faces for being so mean.  
~  
‘A root, a toot, a toodlie-a-da-toot.’  
~  
He loved when they were able to spend time together again. The Andrews Sister released a song that Bucky loved to dance to. Steve looked up at him from the cot as he pretended to swing a girl in his arms while he danced, singing when the music stopped playing. Steves part was the rooting and toodilie-a-da-tooting. He hadn't realized how much he missed Steve.  
~  
‘He blows it eight to the bar in boogie rhythm.  
He can't blow a note unless a bass and guitar  
is playing' with him.  
And the company jumps when he plays reveille.  
He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.’  
~  
When Steve took up real army training everyone gained respect for him. He had the heart of a soldier his whole life but now he could out run anyone without so much as a little wheeze.  
~  
‘He was some boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.  
And when he played his boogie woogie bugle  
he was busy as a busy bee.  
And when he played he made the company jump eight to the bar.  
He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.’  
~  
Throughout the country people came to love Steven Grant Rogers as much as he did. But he had something they didn't.  
~  
‘Andata toodliata-toodliata toot toot’  
~  
He looked around the empty tent before kissing Steve on the lips. “Im proud of you punk.” Steve still looked at him like he was everything. “It's been how long since you left home and how long since I got here?You're just now tryna sneak one?” So he snuck two.  
~  
‘He blows it eight to the bar.  
He can't blow a note if a bass and guitar  
isn't with him.  
And the company jumps when he plays reveille.  
He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.  
He puts the boys to sleep with boogie every night,  
and wakes 'em up the same way in the early bright.’  
~  
He didn't need to be held tight anymore. Their cots were side by side and not once did Steve whisper for a second blanket. He didn't crawl into Buckys space and shiver. When he watched him stretch in the morning he realized his spine was straight.  
~  
‘They clap their hands and stamp their feet,  
'cause they know how it goes when someone gives him a beat.  
Woah, woah, he wakes 'em up when he plays reveille.  
The boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.’  
~  
After a few small field missions and the steady flow of supplies they got they all welcomed Steve like an old friend. Being the kind soul he was he held no one up for questioning on their rude past.  
~  
‘A root, a toot, a toodli-a-da to toot toot toot’  
~  
“You're still pretty.” He poked Steve's hard chest teasingly. His muscles flex when he crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm a real man now Buck, don't you forget that. I'm not sick no more.” Bucky winks at him before leaving for the mess hall.  
~  
‘He's blowin' eight to the bar.  
Yeah, he can't blow a note if a bass and guitar  
isn't, woah, with him.  
And the company jumps when he plays reveille.  
He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.’  
-  
He runs to the bathroom to throw up. He hates himself more than usual. He was Steve's only friend in the world, and now he's Steves only friend from that world. He spent their whole lives defending Steve against accusations of him being gay. That was a dangerous thing to be. Bucky? He loved any lipstick lady who'd put her soft hands on his face and pull him in for a kiss. Steve? He liked girls, especially that take charge Peggy Carter. But they both loved each other. That was the catch, the flaw in Bucky's falling out. He remembered his world, where calling someone gay for even glancing at another man was a knock out punch. He had seen things about this world, where men held hands in the streets and kids had two mothers. He didn't remember stolen kisses on base or dancing in stingy apartments. He vaguely remembered blue eyes rolling back and a flushed body arching off a mattress. 

After he knew everyone was sent back to their floors by Steve he crept into his own room. He took a long sleeve shirt and a sock and a glove and a deep breath. First he ripped apart the end of the sock so it was just a fabric tube. Taking the duct tape on his bedside table, he needed to temporarily hold his arm together last week until Tony could fix it, he slid the sock onto his forearm and taped around the openings. Next he put in the glove, again taping it down. Finally he put on the shirt and looked into the mirror. He wasn't James Buchanan Barnes, he wasn't James, he wasn't the Winter Soldier, he wasn't Sergeant Major Barnes. He prayed that he was still Bucky. Sliding on loose sweatpants and taking out his headband to mess up his hair he kept checking the mirror. Sorrow was heavy on his features. He grabbed another hair tie and his hairbrush, shuffling to quietly knock on his side of the door. “Steve?” His voice was a painful whisper, quivering and quaking as he fought back his own tears.

Somewhere in his mind he was angry that an equally wrecked voice answered “Come in.” He was now the bully that man once tried to fight against in the name of his little lover. Steve was too pure for this world, something Wanda had said that had always been true. He was too good for Bucky. He turned the knob slowly, looking around. There were holes in the wall, in the television,in the mirror, in the pictures on the wall. The mattress was on the floor and the bedframe was in splinters. Neat blonde hair was a mess and hands wringing anxiously were bloody and bruised. Red puffy eyes looked up at him only to lower again in shame. He quickly made his way through the wreckage and knelt down by the man he had loved and destroyed. “C-Can you help me?” Head still down, the small voice answered yes and took hold of the plastic handle. He used the tips of his fingers to get it, careful not to touch.

Men who touched men were gay. The few exceptions were fighting, arm wrestling, helping them up if they're injured, and arm around their shoulder when they were drunk. That's what the world said when they were teenagers. Steve silently and carefully ran the comb through messy hair. His breathing trembled like a leaf in a gust of autumn wind, fragile and light. If it were a different time Bucky would have worried about Steve having an asthma attack or a panic attack. Or a panic attack turning into an asthma attack. Or an asthma attack turning into a panic attack. “Steve I-”

The brush was dropped onto the floor and he covered his face. “You don't have to apologize. It was my fault.” Somewhere in his mind he saw blue eyes staring deep into his soul. He saw snow fall onto soft hair. He heard screaming and train wheels, he saw an arm reach out to him as he ran with the current, with gravity. He remembers the fear that made his heart race and the light shining off the shield. He remembers his own hands letting go, he didn't want to pull Steve down with him. He had a job to do, Bucky didn't. “No. It's not. I was just...Im just- messed up. I said things to hurt you and I don't know why. But it wasn't your fault.” 

Steve snorts. “Everyone keeps saying that it isn't my fault but it is. I could have grabbed you. I was finally strong, I could have pulled you up.” Bucky turns around and puts his hand on Steve's face. They both flinch as flesh meets flesh. Skin separated for years by war and science. “I'm sorry. But no one could have saved me.” Steves eyes struggle to maintain the eye contact. They quickly flicked to Buckys lips and he even leaned in a little. Caressing his jaw Bucky also leaned in. Steve tried to pull away “I'm not trying to-” but he was cut off with a kiss that had waited years for the moment their lips connected. “I'm so sorry I forgot you Stevie.” 

Somewhere in his mind he tried to forgive himself even when he knew he would never. It was okay right now, because somewhere in his mind he reminded himself he's still kissing his stubborn friend from Brooklyn.

**Author's Note:**

> ouch sorry guys


End file.
